


I see you as my miracle

by Niwoomin



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Barista Myungjun, Barista Yoon Sanha, Depressed Bin, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Idol Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo, M/M, Minor Park Minhyuk | Rocky/Yoon Sanha, Teacher Myungjun, Trigger for depressive thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 07:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niwoomin/pseuds/Niwoomin
Summary: Myungjun is used to visiting his brother, almost every day, knowing his brother needs him and needs someone to cheer him up. A daily routine he absolutely doesn't want to break.What Myungjun didn't expect was to find someone who would make him smile, who would understand him and look at him without judgment.Bin, on the other hand, finds his ordinary life boring and wishes it could end - until one day, light comes in his life.





	I see you as my miracle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vonseal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/gifts).

"See you soon again!"

And so Myungjun's shift ended. _Finally,_ he thought. Working as a barista had been nice the first couple of weeks, but after two years or so, nothing was really the same. Thankfully his coworkers were nice enough, well, mostly one or two, but he had stopped on hoping for a better work environnment. Sure, he didn't face any criticism, since he hadn't came out yet, and didn't want to — too risky —, but it could've been the case in this type of side jobs. He preferred jobs that lasted longly, even if the job wasn't much pleasant. Hello, welcome, can I take your order, then he'd prepare the drinks, do you want extra topping with it? no?, well then, here you go, thank you for coming, see you soon again, new costumer arrives, repeat. At least novelties weren't too changing or challenging from his point of view. It was genuinely easy for Myungjun to learn new drinks' composition and how to make them, all he had to do was to get the habit of pouring the coffee from another pouring machine, instead of the usual ones.

It was like that at spring, when they tried sakura-flavoured drinks, which proved to be worth the price the shop had paid the cherry flowers, it was like that in summer, with fruits and juices being honoured along with chilled coffees, it was like that at fall, with all the boised chocolate, pumpkin and cinnamon flavoured drinks, then for Halloween, all the spooky cutesy little decorations a drink could come with were a must-have, and it was like that in winter, the hot wine, the Christmas-themed drinks and decorations, and the hot chocolate and coffee sales going through the roof of the manager's expectation. So it was like that each year, and repeat. They had just entered november but already the warm coffee orders were starting to be more important.

Efficency was a key-word in Myungjun's job. When it was a rush, in the morning, at lunch and at the time people got off work, it had to be the quickest, most rapid service they could offer; when there were a few people in the entire coffee, Myungjun could take his time, and his smile wouldn't look that forced. Though, it did happen that in rush hours, he wouldn't even recognise a friend of his, all the faces weren't worth remembering after the costumer exited, and the speed they had to keep up with barely allowed them to differenciate a person from another. That's why Myungjun worked with adjectives. A frappe for the friendly middle-aged woman, a large cold brew for the gamer student, a vanilla latte for the kind girl, a pumpkin spice with extra expresso shots for the severe woman.

And even if people were somewhat nice and polite most of the time, Myungjun did find negative aspects in his job.

He tried to not be like a grandma — whining every second — still sometimes he couldn't help but complain about every single customer he saw. The first girl, he would go, was so shy I made her repeat three times her order. The second one was just like her, then there was this man and oh my god did he not stop modifying every detail of his order for two minutes, because two minutes, it doesn't look like a lot but I could've prepared two customers' orders, right?, then this lady arrived and she complained about her drink not being hot when it was a chilled mocha? seriously? so she ended up with a lukewarm coffee and was satisfied, ew, that sounded disgusting, then the whipped cream machine broke and I had to ask Sanha to whip the cream himself and god thanks this kid is so smiling and kind-hearted or I would've lost it, and then it was time for my break but obviously a class got cancelled at the uni a block away so all the students came, and Sanha needed help since you both weren't here, it's fine I don't blame it on you, but here I am an hour later and I'm going to start again in five minutes.

That was a normal afternoon for Myungjun.

His coworkers were mostly fine with him, no hard feelings, everyone was satisfied with what he did and said and he was a useful coworker — in the way that he could provide anything and everything to anyone and everyone. At first, it started because Myungjun was so enthusiastic about the job and absolutely did not want to get fired before he could afford to pay at least three months of rent. But ever since he had came back to live home, to live with his parents once more, he didn't find any pleasure or somewhat sense of security in doing what he now was assigned to do.

Hey, Myungjun, do you think lemons would do good for the new fruit juice, I'm thinking of mixing it with cranberry and orange, the boss would ask, uh maybe if you ordered something more on the sour note instead of something, for example cranberry lemon and grapefruit, maybe it could work, oh this is an excellent idea thank you do you know any good lemon farms, yes chief I'm on it, and a couple of minutes after he'd go, there you go I've ordered enough for this next week, wait why didn't you order for two weeks, well since it's a new drink we don't know about the number of customers who'd buy it and it's it's cheaper to order it by day or week for three weeks until it's a better offer to buy it per month, oh Myungjun you're a genius you help me so much, no problem chief, and like that Myungjun soon became the manager's favourite help. Myungjun, did you order this ingredient for the new brew, yes I did !, he would happily go, Myungjun, did you order the stickers we'll begin to offer, yes I did !, he'd smile, Myungjun, have you ordered the posters we'll display next week, yes I did, he'd say, Myungjun, did you check the whipped cream machine, yes, I did, he'd sigh.

Soon, all interest in his job was gone, except the money it paid him, an excellent sum of money for a simple barista. But he was contented with what he did. It was enough for him. His studies didn't matter, or at least not a lot, he had half-dropped out of university since he started working his two jobs. Half-dropped out, because he wouldn't show up to any lecture, yet would give himself the sunday to work on every assignment given, and would fail his midterms before being accepted at the resits, then he'd fail his finals before being accepted again at the resits. Meaning he'd give himself a week each january and two weeks in may to prepare for his exams, and these were his holidays, apart from Chuseok, Christmas, New Year, and his birthday. He'd make up a lot for all the other times he couldn't go to the shop, eventually.

Myungjun smiled looking at the clock on the side of the wall. Six in the afternoon, he'd maybe be home at eight. This was good news. Folding up his apron, going to the staff room to inform he'd go back, changing his black work top to a casual one, and saying goodbye to the manager, he seemed satisfied. His shift finally ended, and Myungjun took his leave knowing others would close the store after him. Today he hadn't taken the family car, so he'd commute by bus and metro. Hopefully, this time he wouldn't take an hour.

The bus was on time, as it was the start of the line. Passing all the young and fresh shops that had opened recently in Hongdae, the bus was sadly already stopped because of traffic. Myungjun contained a huge sigh within himself, forgetting it was rush hours. Just like this morning, when he left.

He had started a bit earlier today, at seven, teaching middle school students proper korean and sometimes english, mathematics and literature if teachers requested him to do so. He had found a side job in a school next to the coffee shop, which was searching for assistants in korean firstly. The teacher is absent, for now, can you be in charge of thirty students on your own? Absolutely, I've been working in a kindergarten for two months, in a middle school for one prior and I was a middle school student myself — him and the head professor would laugh —, so you don't have to worry. But what about the gap in your resume? Did you take a gap year? Not at all, it's private matters, but I'll be here especially in the morning, and I don't miss work.

He had explained a few more things, and got accepted. So, at seven or eight and until ten or eleven, he'd teach classes and then at the end of his classes he would eat for thirty minutes walking down a block or two before going to the coffee shop.

For a major in Korean linguistics, Myungjun surely was someone who liked to play with words. He had never been good with English, somewhat okay but it took his mind more efforts to understand an english sentence, and since he was born in Korea and always liked the language, he had decided on wanting to do that. Since his teen years, Myungjun wanted to become a surgeon or a doctor, but his brother didn't allow it. So Myungjun had resorted on teaching and explaining linguistics, he wasn't that much fond of kids or students but his current job was nice enough for him to appreciate teaching — listening to Korean trot songs and watching some episodes from historical dramas to explain the use of hanja characters or imitating an old person to explain the differences with younger people's speech made him a liked assistant. From assistant, he became a part-time teacher, appreciated by everyone at the school, and the students liked hearing him making imitations of famous people to get the middle schoolers interested.

Myungjun had realised he was good at entertaining earlier than this. Good at entertaining, and singing. So, to make some extra money, he'd sing some songs on the weekend, but lately it had been stopped due to his schedule not allowing him to be here at night. He was back to studying, or working, mostly. Myungjun was one of the rare people to have a stable schedule, balancing two jobs, but he was satisfied with it. His manager at the coffee shop was kind and happy enough with him, so he let him work during the rush hours at the end of the day and for all of the afternoon, sometimes in the morning when he couldn't teach.

And Myungjun, though tired, had started to accept that he would live like this for a moment. Routine seemed bland, but he knew he'd find something to distract him, plus, it preferred it when it was that way.

Rain started falling, making half of the people in the bus look malcontented, and the other half not bothering as always. Myungjun, barely able to move, simply took the umbrella from his bag. He had checked the weather forecast in the morning, as always, and knew there was a chance of rain, which didn't disturb him. He liked the sound of the rain, the scent it gave to the ground, the way is hair curled a bit at the end of the strands because of the humidity, and how it didn't care about anything but falling. It calmed his ears, too. The bus started suddenly again, taking more and more time at each stop, people entering until the bus was almost ready to explode. _Rush hours_. Myungjun didn't want to be late. Visits were only allowed until 8, surely he wouldn't go over this hour, but the more time he could spend there, the happier they'd both be.

Myungjun finally arrived after thirty minutes, sighing openly this time. This hospital looked sad, from the bus. White, glass windows which only reflected the yellow, red and white lights of the city, LED panels showing ads for the same idols continuously right next to it, and numerous people — not really happy, it could be told even from afar — entering and exiting it. Though, today, there weren't a lot of people.

Getting off of the bus, his umbrella protecting him from the water drops, walking a few minutes to the front of the building, he entered the hall, looking for a nurse who could help him find his brother's room. She indicated it simply, room 323. Never twice without a third time, Myungjun pessimistically thought. It was the second time his brother was transferred, again in a 'better place, where he'll get the best treatments, don't worry', yet Myungjun couldn't help but have a bad feeling. He signed the discharge, sighed again, thanked the nurse, and took the elevator. For once, there was no one. In autumn, there would've been more people, though it didn't seem like it.

The soon-to-be familiar 'ding' rang, and Myungjun searched in the too-quiet corridor, for a minute or so. He was used to hospitals, at this point, he couldn't do much more than follow the bare indications, so that he wouldn't get lost. But it was a routine. Hospitals in which his brother spent almost all of his life, the thought of this making him sadder.

He lightly shook his head, chasing the bad thoughts away. He arrived in front of the door he was searching — he barely saw the numbers but was sure of him. He breathed once, and put on a bright smile again. What his brother surely needed. He entered the room and saw only one bed, in which his brother was probably resting, his head covered by the bed sheets. At least, he wouldn't disturb anyone else.

Myungjun closed the door and tried not to yell, all happy:

"Min! Are you feeling better? Did you get to rest enough? I'm not bothering, am I? No, I'm never, I'm such a sunshine you'd forgive me."

He approached the bed, smiling as widely as he could.

"Min?" he repeated, seeing no movement.

"Hm?"

Myungjun froze. It was strange. A different vibe was coming from his brother. Did something happen without his knowledge?

"Min?"

"What?"

The unknown voice from the unknown guy in the bed made Myungjun step back and face the wall instead of the apparent stranger, not wanting to be embarrassed. Who?

"Min? Are- You're not Hyunmin?"

"Where are you?" The voice sounded a bit tired, rising from sleep.

"What? I'm next to you." Myungjun said, still facing the walls.

"Let me try to look at you?"

"What do you mean, try-" He turned around, but he couldn't finish his sentence.

This wasn't his brother, that he knew by the tone of the voice, but he didn't expect someone this beautiful. His eyes, especially. Piercing, profound. A soft, sweet gaze. Brown hair, so common yet so unexpected. The man himself was good looking, though only wearing the hospital's robe.

"Can't you see?", the man talked again, a light laugh at what he said emerging from his throat.

Myungjun stood, speechless. More than the stranger's aspect, he didn't know what was the point of his question. Was something wrong with him? Did the man have an invisible illness? From the lack of answer, a few seconds later, the man's sweet voice started again.

"I'm blind."

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading this  
i hope it was good!  
comments & kudos r always accepted and i'll answer them!
> 
> otherwise u can scream at me on twitter or cc @niminkim  
bai bai


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